


Art of the Deal

by westwingfanfictioncentral_archivist



Category: The West Wing
Genre: F/M, Humor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2005-07-21
Updated: 2005-07-21
Packaged: 2019-05-30 22:50:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,642
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15106448
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/westwingfanfictioncentral_archivist/pseuds/westwingfanfictioncentral_archivist
Summary: Sequel toTribes of Man





	Art of the Deal

**Author's Note:**

> A copy of this work was once archived at National Library, a part of the [ West Wing Fanfiction Central](https://fanlore.org/wiki/West_Wing_Fanfiction_Central), a West Wing fanfiction archive. More information about the Open Doors approved archive move can be found in the [announcement post](http://archiveofourown.org/admin_posts/8325).

   


**Art of the Deal**

**by: Sophia**

**Character(s):** Josh, Donna  
**Pairing(s):** Josh/Donna  
**Category(s):** Humor  
**Rating:** TEEN  
**Disclaimer:** I don't own the West Wing, I don't own What Not To Wear, I have nothing to do with Donald Trump. I don't own a lot of things. So suing me is kind of pointless.  
**Summary:** Sequel to "Tribes of Man".  
**Written:** April 6, 2004  


"No!" Oh my God. He's being so difficult. Unfortunately I used up all the candy I brought while getting him better fitting casual clothes. The suits were surprisingly easy. The fighting started over the jeans issue and escalated from there. Rina and Ginger gave me 2 full bags of caramels as Josh and I left work this afternoon to ward off cranky fits brought on by low blood sugar. But now I have none left to fight the battle over Josh's underwear. 

"Josh, this is non-negotiable." I have not come this far to leave the important details untouched. Oh… touching Josh's underwear. Touching Josh while he's in his boxers. Touching Josh's boxers while he's in them. Okay, not the thoughts to be having in the middle of a department store. 

"I don't care. I have to draw a line somewhere and this is it. I'm not buying new underwear. I don't need it. I've got plenty." Yeah, he's got plenty of ugly underwear. I hate Josh's underwear. I mean he has some really cute cartoon boxers but everything else is old, utilitarian, and worst of all, baggy where it shouldn't be. I can't believe he's defending them. 

"They're old, they're ugly, and the elastic is gone on most of them. We're throwing them out and starting from scratch." He's given in over everything else. He now owns a dozen shirts in colors he balked at at first, but when he tried them on I won him over to the joys of color. He looks amazing in his new clothes; I just have to know that I did everything I could. Trinny and Susannah always comment on the little things. All your clothes count. If I don't do something about this, then the foundation of his whole appearance will be off. I need to make sure all his clothes are perfect. And that includes new boxers. 

"No." This is what mothers deal with every year when shopping for back to school clothes. I need to call my mom tonight and apologize for the years I did this to her. Maybe I should call Josh's mom, too. Tell her I feel her pain. 

"You keep saying 'No' like it means something. It doesn't. This is what's going to happen. You need to accept it." Josh likes playing hardball. He's good at it. Except when he plays with me. Then he loses. Oh man, Josh playing with me. Yet another image not to have in a department store with your boss. 

"Fine. We're politicians. We'll simply work a deal. You buy me new underwear, I buy you new underwear." *WE'RE* politicians. He said 'we're politicians', not *I'm* a politician. He thinks of me as a politician. He considers me an equal. Wait, he said something about my underwear. What was that again? He's going to buy me underwear. Well that ought to be interesting. 

"Deal. Now let's go get you some new boxers." I've had lots of guys buy me underwear over my lifetime. Freeride liked to give me what he thought was sexy lingerie all the time. It was the trashiest stuff you've ever seen. I'm sure Josh's taste won't be as bad as that, so let him spend the money. If that's what it takes, so be it. I turn and head towards the escalators but his hand on my arm stops me. 

"No, I have to go get your stuff. Just buy what you think I need. I've got the other credit card; we'll meet in an hour at the food court." I've been using his credit card all afternoon. It has his name on it, but whenever I give it to a sales clerk they run it like I should be the one carrying it. I'm trying not to think about that too much. Because on the one hand, I don't know how I feel about the fact that I can pass myself off as Joshua Lyman (do I look like a Josh to these people? Isn't there a security issue here?) and on the other hand I like the idea that we seem so comfortable with each other that people just think we're a couple. Although I'm not so sure I'd want to be Mrs. Joshua Lyman. I want to be my own person. Donnatella Moss-Lyman. Or maybe just Donnatella Lyman. That's not so bad. I knew this was going to happen. Shopping was going to change things between us, I knew it the second he brought it up. 

Now he's going to wander off and buy underwear for me while I do the same for him. I feel like the my whole relationship with Josh is suddenly moving at light speed… I just hope I like where we end up. 

"Alright. One hour." I'm just going to focus on his boxers and not think about Josh buying me underwear. This has taken on a whole new weirdness that's way beyond the fact that I've been dressing him up likes he's my own life-sized Ken doll. 

"Wait, I… I… um… need to know your sizes." I totally didn't think about the fact that he might need to know that. Great. Well, if I'm not honest he'll just buy things in the wrong size. And who knows, he might not dress me like a hooker. Yeah, I'll just tell him the truth. 

"My bra size is 34B, my panties are size small and if you must know it all I'm a size six. 34/25/35 to be precise. Anything else you need to know?" It was sort of like ripping off a bandage. Get all the pain over with at once. And I'm rewarded by the most amazing look of awe as he compares the numbers to the real thing. With more sway in my hips than normal, I leave him to gape as I wander off to find him boxers that fit. 

############ 

I don't want to fuck this up. Donna has spent the entire afternoon making sure I own clothes that make me look like I stepped out of a GQ cover. Well, that and shoving caramels down my throat if I complained too much. When she brought up my boxers, I saw an opening and I took it. And now I'm going to prove that I know what I'm doing too. 

I'm standing just inside the Victoria's Secret, looking at the sales people. Sizing them up. Finding the right one. It's not unlike finding the perfect political appointment. It's all about knowing exactly what you're looking for. 

The first person I see is a man. I take a moment to ponder whether he's straight or gay and then decide it doesn't matter. If you've never worn a bra, you aren't going to be that helpful to me. I'm not looking for a man's opinion. 

The first person to approach me is a young, busty blonde girl. From the first words out of her mouth, she was trying to find out for whom I was buying and if I was looking for a little fun. Flattering, but definitely not interesting. 

Then I saw her. She looked like she was in her late 30's to early 40's. Her long black hair was in a neat French twist and she had a diamond ring and gold band on her left hand. Her smile told me she was happy, and not just in that 'I want to make a sale' kind of way. 

"My name is Jeannette. May I help you?" She even has a nice voice. I like that. 

"I believe so. I would like to ask you a few questions, if I may?" Washington has taught me that, in the end, it never hurts to verify your assumptions. 

"Of course, sir." Her smile is soft and genuine. It kind of reminds me of CJ's smile when she's not mad at me. 

"How long have you been married?" Her eyebrow quirks ever so slightly at my question. 

"Thirteen years to the most amazing man I know." Her smile widens when she speaks of her husband, affirming that this is the woman who will help me pick beautiful pieces of underwear for Donnatella. 

"Are you still in love with him?" She looks like she is, but I want to know what she'll say. 

"Definitely." Yep, Jeannette is the sales person for me. 

"I think you'll do just fine. I need to find some underwear for my best friend and I want it to be stuff she'd wear. Comfortable, beautiful things that won't embarrass her. I know that she's gotten some bad lingerie before and I don't want her to think that about what I get her." I needed to find someone who knows what is beautiful and comfortable. Someone who isn't trying to pick me up. Someone with class and taste and style. Someone in love, who will recognize someone else in love. Yeah, I know. Make of it what you will. 

"How do you know she's gotten bad lingerie before?" She tilts her head to the side like Donna. I like that. 

"Ever see the movie 'Working Girl'? She made me watch it one night and when Melanie Griffith gets that trashy stuff from Alec Baldwin, the look on her face just told me that an ex bought her stuff like that." I know it was Freeride. We never talked about it, but I know these things. 

"Ew. I know exactly what you mean. I hate that stuff. Tell me what she looks like… oh and do you know her sizes?" She's walking and talking in a way that makes me very comfortable. I wonder if it's instinctual for her, as a good salesperson, to just know how to act with different customers. 

"She's tall. About 5'9" with long naturally blonde hair. Her skin is like porcelain and her eyes are a light blue. She's size 6 with a 34B chest." Those numbers are going to be burned into my brain forever. I can't believe I know Donna's measurements. 

"Okay. And did you just want to get one bra and panty set? Or a negligee? How much money did you want to spend today?" That's an important question. And one I don't bother to think too hard about. 

"I want to spend as much as I need to. I want to buy at least half of what a well-put-together woman needs. I think she has good lingerie, but I want to get her amazing pieces that will make her smile and round out her wardrobe. Does that make any sense at all?" It's really hard to think while discussing Donna's foundation garments because I keep thinking about her in them. 

"I completely understand what you're looking for and I think it's awfully sweet of you to do this for her. May I ask what brought this on? Not a lot of men buy this much lingerie for their girlfriends, let alone their best friends." Jeannette is pulling bras out of drawers and off racks. Piles of lace and silk and cotton are laying out for me to pick from. 

"She just spent the afternoon dragging me, kicking and screaming, towards style. She spends so much time taking care of me and this is a chance to prove that I can do something nice for her. Or something like that." I smile my reassuring 'I'm not a stalker' smile at her as I realize I don't sound like a best friend, I sound like a man in love. 

"Well, let's see if we can do something nice for her." Jeannette and I spend the next 30 minutes discussing under-wires, fabrics and all kinds of things that go into women's bras. 

I leave the store with a dozen little pink boxes with satiny black bows and head for the food court. 

I'm still a ways away when I spot Donna sitting on a bench, drinking a soda, surrounded by bags of my clothes. She's also surrounded by a group of young men who appear to be trying to pick her up. 

I'm guessing they're asking her out for a drink because she shakes her head and rattles the ice in her soda at them, but they don't seem to want to take no for an answer. 

Another one tries his pitch. Then another. I'm too far away to hear what they're saying but Donna seems to be more amused than upset. I wonder if she gets hit on a lot. Usually when we're out together no one approaches her. I think I should make sure she doesn't go out by herself anymore. It'll cut down on the gomers. 

"Aw, come on, pretty lady, give us a chance. We're nice guys. We could have some fun." That's his line? That's how he plans to get a stunning woman like Donnatella Moss to go out with him. Correction, them? He must be mentally deficient. 

"Tell you what. If you can recite the Declaration of Independence, from memory and without any mistakes, I'll let you boys buy me a drink." She bats her eyelashes at them and sucks seductively on her straw. The 'boys', who can't be older than college freshmen, get flustered and start racking their brains to even figure out which document she's talking about, let alone what it says. 

"We the people… No wait, that's not the right one." I fear for the future of America. I really do. 

"Fourscore and… that's Lincoln. Fuck. I know this one." That's just plain frightening. I'm actually scared of these kids now. 

"It's the one with 'life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness'... I know I know how it goes. God, I can't think under all this pressure." At least this one figured out what she's talking about. But still, not enough to win the prize. 

If these are the future leaders of America, I think we're in trouble. Time to step up to the plate. 

"When in the Course of human events, it becomes necessary for one people to dissolve the political bands which have connected them with another, and to assume among the powers of the earth, the separate and equal station to which the Laws of Nature and of Nature's God entitle them, a decent respect to the opinions of mankind requires that they should declare the causes which impel them to the separation. Do you need me to recite the rest of it, or can I buy you a drink now?" Donna's eyes light up when she sees me. I don't know a whole lot of people who can rescue the damsel by reciting the first paragraph of the Declaration. Guess I'm just lucky. 

"How bout you take me home instead?" She stands and picks up the bags around her in one hand, tosses her soda in the trash and takes my arm. Her smile widens as she realizes how much I bought for her at Victoria's Secret. Turning back to the bumbling idiots behind her she says, "Remember this boys, smart is sexy. Really, really sexy." With that she kisses my cheek and we head towards the exit. 

Donna thinks I'm sexy. Donna kissed me and thinks I'm sexy. I love being smart. 

As we leave the mall and head towards my car, I'm aware of the fact that today the whole picture of my relationship with Donna changed. I think this new picture is one I could look at for the rest of my life.


End file.
